


uneasy rests the head that wears the crown

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, M/M, this isn't really happy but it isn't really sad either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 01:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “The King of Quebec is looking to marry. Word is that he would prefer a man. It would be be an incredible alliance for Nova Scotia to have.”





	uneasy rests the head that wears the crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blindbatalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/gifts).



Brad rises when Rebecca comes into his chambers, bowing, “My Queen.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at him, “Oh brother, do not bother with such pleasantries when we are alone.”

Her words have that royal lilt to them now, something Brad has never been able to pick up, but Rebecca had managed to grasp perfectly after a few weeks spending time with her advisors.

She sits on the edge of his bed, “I have a proposition for you.”

“Sending me down to train some of the infantry again? I swear my sword skills aren’t replicable.”

“No it’s not that, it’s- look, you must understand this is very challenging for me. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t incredibly important for Nova Scotia. And you can always deny my request. I love you dearly, and I would never ask you to do that which conflicts with your own heart.”

Brad sits next to Rebecca, worried at her solemnity, “What is it?”

“The King of Quebec is looking to marry. Word is that he would prefer a man. It would be be an incredible alliance for Nova Scotia to have.”

Brad sucks in a deep breath. It’s not that Brad had never planned on marrying. Just, as the third child, he had expected to be allowed to choose his partner. He’d imagined a small cottage outside of the city walls, fishing with his partner to find food for dinner, hikes in the woods. He had imagined leaving the castle, the politics, the feasts. He’d imagined having someone tucked into a small bed beside him who loved him, not the separate beds customary for a King.

As he looks into Rebecca’s eyes though, he can see the worry, the grays in her hair from just a few years of ruling. Rebecca, the one that read to him as a child and played with his hair, and was the first to tell him she didn’t mind if he wanted to marry a boy one day. Her job was so unbelievably hard, and she looked the worse for it.  
.

As he is being prepared for his wedding, by unfamiliar ladies in waiting, in an unfamiliar castle, in an unfamiliar land, Brad looks around for signs of his husband to be. There are paintings he finds, but he almost laughs when he sees them. They depict a man far too beautiful as to be believable. It makes Brad uneasy that he is marrying the sort of vain king that would ask an artist to portray him inaccurately.

Brad’s wedding robes are an immaculate white, studded with jewels. When one of the ladies in waiting catches him rubbing them softly with his hands, she smiles.

“King Patrice asked those to be made with the softest wool they could find.”

“Oh?” Brad murmurs.

“Yes, he insisted. And that they pay the shepherd double the standard price as well, as a thank you for his service to the new King Consort to be.”

She is putting some sort of gel-like liquid into his hair, coaxing it into a new shape. Her mannerisms remind him of his sisters in a way that wears at the edges of his heart. 

“How is he then, the King?” Brad says quietly, so that she may hear but not the young girl across the room who is polishing his shoes.

“Oh, he is wonderful. He is so wise and kind, a truly great leader, Quebec is lucky to have him.”

The woman says it earnestly, but Brad knows that if she were to be overheard saying something less than kind about the King, she could easily lose her position or her life. He decides not to press further, relaxes into the feeling of her hands in his hair, prepares himself mentally for what’s to come.

.

Brad doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he has made his way down the aisle and is faced with the man he is to marry. He doesn’t look like the paintings, it’s true. He looks a thousand times more ravishing in person. Through Brad’s veil, he can see the slight scar at the top of King Patrice’s nose and the beautiful color of his eyes.

Brad worries for the first time what Patrice’s reaction will be when he lifts Brad’s veil. Brad had never been particularly insecure about what he looked like before, but he knew for a fact that it was nothing compared to this carved marble man in front of him. It’s not that King Patrice could do much about it if he didn’t like what Brad looked like, but he wanted him to find him attractive too. It’s that silly romanticism still left in Brad’s heart that he can’t get rid of no matter how many times he tries to push it down. 

When King Patrice lifts Brad’s veil, Brad watches as he takes in a sharp breath, smiling. The King trails his hand down the side of Brad’s face, and it is the most electrifying touch Brad has ever experienced. Brad can’t understand a word of the ceremony, as it’s all in French, but he knows what’s coming when the King leans in. His lips are soft, Brad imagines he’d probably received the same scrub treatment on his as Brad had earlier in the day. They kiss only briefly before Patrice pulls away and gives Brad a gentle smile.

When he leads Brad out of the church with a hand on his wrist, Brad once again has to stop his heart from fluttering. 

.

As Brad lays down in the bed the priest has blessed, he feels suddenly nervous. He knows it is his duty to Nova Scotia to confirm the marriage, and it isn’t as though King Patrice doesn’t look like the kind of man Brad had always wished for. He just had never imagined the clinical nature of a consummation ceremony. King Patrice had sent out every servant and advisor but one, saying that he didn’t want any more sets of eyes than was necessary to confirm to the courts of both countries.

King Patrice sits next to him on the bed, “My beautiful husband, what is on your mind?"

Brad doesn’t know what to do with the tender affection in the King’s voice, “I am not your husband quite yet though, am I?” he asks, hating the way his words shake a bit.

The King’s eyebrows knit together, “Are you concerned about the consummation? I had been told that you were interested in men.”

Brad looks to the corner of the room, “I am. You are very attractive, my liege. I just don’t-”

King Patrice cups Brad’s chin softly in his hand, “Please do not refer to me as your liege. I am not your King first, but your husband. You may call me Patrice. And if you are concerned about the consummation, we need not worry ourselves with that tonight. Lord Chara is a good man, and he will tell the courts that we have completed the act.”

Brad shakes his head, “But it is my duty to you as your husband.”

Patrice turns Brad’s head to look him directly in the eyes, “You owe me nothing, my love. I have decided that I would like to get to know you tonight. Let us change into our bedclothes, and you can tell me about your life. I want you to be happy here. I want you to be happy with me.”

Brad aches for a cottage in the woods, for Nova Scotia, for his sisters several kingdoms away. But he has this kind man in bed with him, and it is still more than he had dared let himself hope for since he had agreed to the marriage.

“Yes, my liege, I mean, Patrice.”

Patrice smiles softly at him, drops his hand from his face and turns to the man, “Lord Chara, please announce our consummation.”

The man nods once, and exits into the hallway. Brad can hear raucous celebration in the hallway where all the advisors are gathered. It makes sense that Brad is already failing at his duties his first night as King Consort. He feels shame as he hears the whoops and hollers for an act he was unable to complete.

That night, after Patrice has finished asking Brad about every minute detail of his life, after what must have been hours, Patrice gathers Brad up in his arms and goes to sleep. Brad stays awake awhile, breathing and pondering his future.

.

After a month in the castle, Brad still struggles with some of the formalities of royal life. He often mixes up the titles of those in the court or forgets which of the 12 utensils to reach for when eating his meal at a feast. King Patrice never seems to mind though, and he has given Brad free reign of the castle and its grounds to do what he pleases.

Brad’s main attendant is a young man named Jake. Jake has a father who was someone important once. Brad had heard the story at some point, but had forgotten it with the deluge of information he obtained in his first few weeks. Brad likes Jake though. He was a kind young man who seemed genuinely pleased to go around the castle exploring with Brad.

It was no secret though, that Jake enjoyed the stables for an entirely different reason than Brad. Brad had always enjoyed riding horses and had gone to the stables for the first time early into his visit. When he’d shared his fondness with Patrice that night in their bed, Patrice had sent for Brad to have a new horse all his own. Brad had named the chestnut beauty Halifax, and took to visiting her everyday in the stables. Jake was always sure to attend to that particular task with Brad, although Brad knew it was not because of Jake’s interest in the horses.

In fact, Jake seemed a bit scared of the horses, jumping back when one neighed too loudly. But the boy who ran the stables, Charlie, was rather fetching, and Brad often found the two engaged in deep conversation when he returned from a ride. It only encouraged him to visit the stables even more frequently. 

One morning after a nice long ride, Brad had come back to the stables to find the two laid out in a patch of grass, soaking up the sun while they talked. Not wanting to disturb the lovebirds, he went into the stables to put Halifax away himself and brush her coat as well. He was tucked into her stall with her when he heard two servants from the castle stop into the stables, presumably to gather some hay to transfer to the livestock area.

“It’s really such a shame for King Patrice. He’s a good man, and he always does what is right for Quebec.”

“Oh yes entirely. He deserves a truly magnificent husband. Someone who can help him rule.”

“And doesn’t look more rodent than human,” the other servant adds, sending both of them into a chuckle.

They leave then, having apparently gathered whatever they needed. Brad feels something heavy and rotten in his chest. He still missed Nova Scotia of course, but he had began to settle into his life and his role here. He had been able to consummate his marriage, and surprisingly, Patrice had chosen to keep Brad in his bed every night instead of sending him to separate chambers. He was learning as quickly as he could to help with the social events, and he quite enjoyed his nightly chats with Patrice. 

But perhaps it wasn’t enough. Brad felt cold, wondering what he could do to please his King better. Pulling Jake away from Charlie is difficult, but he truly must go to the libraries to try to find accounts of past Queens and how they had behaved.

.

Patrice looks at him, confused, “But court meetings are horribly boring, darling.”

Brad shuffles where he is in Patrice’s arms, poking one of his legs in between Patrice’s, “It is important that I understand what is happening in the Kingdom and begin to learn the people of your court.”

Patrice nuzzles at Brad’s neck, “Anything you wish then, love.”

.

Brad has his attendants bathe him with a new scent. He and Jake had walked all over the castle gardens to collect the flowers that Brad had found listed as one of the former Queen’s favorite bath additions. He also asks them to wax his face, bites down on a cloth as they rip out every bit of beard poking out and between his brows.

Patrice touches him reverently that night, kissing at his shoulders and touching his cheeks over and over.

“You are always so lovely to me,” Brad hears him whisper when he is on the verge of sleep.

He drifts off, happily knowing he’s doing better.

.

Brad perhaps carries a bit too much of this confidence when he tries the third part of his plan.

They are laying in their bed, Patrice breathing heavily, his hand gently wrapped around Brad’s hipbone when Brad asks the question.

“How would you feel about a courtesan?”

Brad can feel Patrice’s entire body tense, and notices sharply how Patrice’s gentle grip around his hip has quickly turned bruising.

“If you think I’m going to be alright laying in the next room while someone else fucks you, then you clearly have not learned anything about me,” Patrice bites out, a venom in his voice that Brad has only heard when someone suggests laws in court meetings that will place high burdens on the common people.

Brad gasps out, “No, no, not for me, God. For you, Patrice.”

Patrice’s grip relaxes just barely, but he turn on his side to look more closely at Brad, “Have I done something to make you feel I am not pleased with our nightly activities?”

“No, no, it is but traditional, and there are some very lovely courtesans I’m sure, whom you might be able to find much more physically attractive than myself.”

Patrice rubs a slow circle into Brad’s hip, “I cannot imagine any courtesan being half as lovely as my husband.”

And Patrice is kissing him, stealing Brad’s breath away, whispering in his ear that he wants to prove just how much he doesn’t need a courtesan.

.

Brad had heard stories of Kings sending assassins to kill their wives when they tired of them, but didn’t want the repercussions of an annulment or any attachment to the crime itself. It is why he doesn’t fight when he is kidnapped on his morning ride with Halifax. He figures it is the best result for both Patrice and Nova Scotia if he dies quickly and quietly.

He doesn’t realize until he is tied down in a shack and listening to his attackers that this is not actually Patrice’s doing, but an attempt to blackmail the King into a sum of gold. He is significantly less surprised than his attackers when the ransom money doesn’t come as quickly as they had asked for.

They beat Brad, bruising his face and abdomen blue and purple when they become frustrated with their wait. Brad feels his nose crack hard once, and they back off, probably in an attempt to avoid bloodying themselves.

Brad is almost asleep when he hears the men start to scramble. There is a loud noise as the door to the shack falls in, and the first person Brad sees is Lord Chara’s towering frame. Lord Chara quickly pulls his sword and has stabbed the first man before Brad can blink, and then there is the King himself. Patrice has a dark expression on his face that Brad has never seen before, and he stares in disbelief as Patrice slices a man’s throat without a second’s hesitation. He and Lord Chara fight with the men as Jake runs into the shack, looking around for Brad and then quickly undoing his ties.

“You has us so worried. Charlie and I went out looking for you when you didn’t return, and when we found Halifax alone, we knew something was horribly wrong. We interrupted the King in his court, and I don’t think he’s sat down or slept since.”  
By the time Jake is done talking, the last of the kidnappers is on the ground. Patrice has a slight cut on his nose that is bleeding, and he walks over to where Brad and Jake are. Jake moves away quickly. Patrice leans down, picking Brad up and holding him close to his chest.

Brad waits for Patrice to say something, then realizes from the wet he feels against his face that Patrice is crying. He hears Chara and Jake’s footsteps away from the shack as he feels Patrice start to shake with his tears.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Patrice chokes out. 

He carries Brad out to his horse, insists that Brad rides with him, and back at the castle carries him to their bed, refusing medical attention for his nose. Brad sits there, quiet and numb as Patrice strips them both from their clothes. He touches each of Brad’s bruises like he can feel it himself, crying again silently at the dark colors that have bloomed over Brad’s entire body. He tucks them into bed together, pressing every inch of his body against Brad’s kissing him once and running his hands up and down his body over and over again.

They say nothing, but its hours before either of them can fall asleep, laying together and staring. 

.

Patrice asks him a few days later, when Brad’s bruises have turned shades of yellow and green, and his life has began to return to normal, why he didn’t fight off the attackers.

“I know you have the sword skills to have easily fought off those men, did they threaten you with something?”

Brad gazes at the ceiling, “I thought you had sent them to kill me, and I thought it was probably for the best.”

Patrice has a sharp intake of breath and he is crying again, “Oh, husband, I’m so sorry to have failed you so dearly.”

Brad doesn’t know how to explain to Patrice that he is the one that is a failure, that one day Patrice himself will hear the murmurs around the castle, that Brad’s broken nose is going to heal even uglier than before, and then Patrice will wish that those men had killed Brad right then. He doesn’t know how to say that while he still loves Nova Scotia, his loyalty now and forever is to Patrice only, that he would slit his own throat if his King asked it of him. 

He wipes away Patrice’s tears, kisses him softly, hopes for a day when he can be worthy of Patrice’s sorrow. In the morning he will go to the stables, in the afternoon he will go to the court to learn of the farming crisis, and at night he will go to bed with his husband he can’t imagine life without.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Alex for helping me through the past weekend with his endless support and distraction providing-ness that ended up leading to this story existing. Big thank you to everyone who supports me or my writing. Please leave a comment below if you liked it.


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